


reincarnate

by liionne



Series: Tumblr Prompts [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Reincarnation, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 04:24:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4333769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liionne/pseuds/liionne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt? Sergeant James "Jimmy" Barker dies during a mission in 1945, and is soon followed by his best friend, Captain Stephen Roe. James "Bucky" Barnes, born in 1995, has reoccurring nightmares that wake him up screaming. He misses Stevie. Steve Rogers, born in 1996, wakes up most nights crying and unable to breathe. He always asks for Jimmy. The first time Bucky meets Steve, Steve's five years old and lecturing kids on the playground about the Howling Commandos. Reincarnation AU?</p>
            </blockquote>





	reincarnate

**Author's Note:**

> Again, unbeta'd. I hope whoever asked for the prompt is happy with it!

Sarah soothes her son, sitting in bed with him at two in the morning, stroking soft blonde hair and hoping to shush him, eyes closed as she rocks him. He cries and whimpers, sobs wracking his frail chest.

“What do you need, baby?” She asks him. An odd question for a five year old, but Stvee has always acted like he had a forty-year-old head on his shoulders. “Tell me what you need, Stevie.”

“Jimmy.” He whimpers. “I need Jimmy. I wanna see him.”

~*~

Two streets over, Bucky wakes up screaming yet again. No matter how much therapy they seem to put him through, the screaming never stops. His little sister, Rebecca, stares into the room with wide eyes as his father pulls him into his lap, pulling him close until his screaming stops, and subsides into whimpers about someone called  _Stevie_.

Bucky whimpers and shifts, breaking into sobs rather than screams, and Winifred Barnes prays to whatever deity is out there that this’ll end eventually.

~*~

The first time they meet, it’s on the playground. A frail-looking, white-blond child is standing with his arms folded over his chest, petulant. He’s lecturing a group of boys their age, about four or five of them. A few look genuinely sorry, one looks bored enough to fall asleep, and one is beaming brightly, like he wants to laugh but is trying so hard to hold it back.

Curious, Bucky trudges over to them. He waits until he’s just close enough to hear what they’re saying, before stopping, and listening intently. The other five aren’t talking, so it’s the little blond kid that’s speaking, as he says,

“Is this what the Howling Commandos would do? I don’t think so. We’re supposed to help people, we don’t push ‘em off the monkey bars!”

Bucky frowns softly. He knows the Howling Commandos, but realises that he doesn’t know how. He edges slightly closer again, black trainers scuffing the ground.

“You can go. I need to talk to the Colonel.”

He turns around as the other boys toe the ground and walk away, and he almost walks straight into Bucky. They blink at each other, and Bucky says, “Who’s the Howling Commandos.”

“My army group. We help people.” Steve answers, gaze steady, before he tosses a glance at the monkey bars. “Usually.”

Bucky nods gravely. “Can I join?” He asks.

“Uh huh.” Steve nods, after a moment’s deliberation. “What’s your name?”

“James Buchanan Barnes.” He answers, standing a fraction taller as he looks at him. “But my mama calls me Bucky. What’s yours?”

“Steven Grant Rogers.” Steven answers, before adding, “But my ma calls me Steve sometimes. Or Stevie.”

 _Stevie_. Bucky sticks out his hand, and without hesitating, Steve reaches to shake it. “Nice to meet y’ Stevie.”

“Nice to meet y’ Bucky.” Steve nods. “Wanna play?”

When Bucky nods, the two run across the playground together, beginning a friendship that lasts for years.

~*~

They sit in the park, twelve years later, seventeen years old and staying out after curfew because there’s a gap in the park fence and they can sneak in with absolutely no trouble. Everyone else hangs around under the bridges and things like that, street corners and alleyways, but they like the park. They sit facing the war memorial, but only because it hides them from any local authorities that might be walking past.

They both still have nightmares, but they’ve learned to deal with it. Steve will wake up with a feeling like his chest is too tight, like he can’t breathe, and rather than holler for his ma, he’ll take his inhaler, and lie in the darkness. Bucky paid, out of his own money, to have his room soundproofed - against his mother’s wishes, but never mind. He knows that she sleeps easier at night now. Sometimes, he’ll just press his face into his pillow, and scream. That helps too.

But not when they’re together. They sleep in the same bed at least once a week, and that’s the only time each week that they sleep soundly, huddled together, a mass of long limbs and lean muscle clinging close to each other just to stay on the bed.

“I had it again last night.” Bucky says, tossing a bouncy ball up into the air, and catching it before it hits the grass. “That dream. Still don’t know what it means.”

“Tell me again.” Steve requests, pushing his glasses up his nose as they threaten to fall off his face. He looks over at Bucky, and Bucky sighs softly.

“I’m on a train. I’m on a train, and I’m clinging to this railing on the side, and i can feel my hand slipping. I know I’m going to die. And there’s this guy, he’s in an army uniform, so I guess we must both be in the army, and he’s reaching for me. Trying to hold onto me, and then i just... fall.” Bucky shrugs. He studies Steve for a second, and raises one hand to run the backs of his knuckles over his cheek gently, a soft caress. “He looks kind of like you.”

Steve hums softly, leaning into the touch, before he focuses on the memorial. He has a similar dream, and he knows he’s told Bucky about it before. He’s leaning out of a moving train, trying to reach for someone in a world war two uniform, someone that looks just like Bucky. When that man falls, he throws himself down as well, into whatever is waiting at the bottom.

“Hey-- look.”

Steve squints, and moves from his place on the grass to trace one of the names etched into the marble with his fingertip. Bucky watches, curious, and then shifts to follow. Steve’s head tilts, as he says, “Sargent James “Jimmy” Barker. Died 5th June 1945.”

“Weird.” Bucky mutters. “Don’t you always ask for a Jimmy?”

“Always.” Steve agrees.

They’re silent for a moment, pondering that, and then Bucky places his fingertip against the marble, eyes narrow. “Captain Steven Roe. Died 5th June 1945.”

Silence, again. It’s Steve who breaks it. “Names kinda sound like ours.” he murmurs, voice soft in the relative quiet of the park. “And in your dream, they look like they’re in world war two, right? So, I mean...”

“We’re not remembering the past lives of some dead world war two soldiers, Stevie.” Bucky says, head shaking, but he doesn’t sound too sure of himself. “Don’t be dumb.”

Steve looks at the memorial, and stands. “Let’s go home.” he murmurs. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

~*~

In History class a few weeks later, they open their textbooks to page 107, and stare in relative disbelief. The chapter focuses on the capture of some illusive and high ranking Nazi officials, someone wanted by America for killing hundreds and thousands of people across the globe. In the mission, run by a special corps nicknamed “The Howling Commandos”, only two men died. Their leader, Captain Steven Roe, and their second-in-command, Sargent Jimmy Barker.

Enclosed, are their portraits. Two military photographs taken in full dress uniform, just six months before the mission.

Both Bucky  _and_  Steve recognise the men immediately.

Gabe leans forward in his seat, and whispers from behind them, “Hey! Those guys look kinda like you two.”

Beneath the table, Steve takes Bucky’s hand, and they face the front of the room.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts, questions and comments are more than welcome at [my tumblr](http://achaiion.tumblr.com).


End file.
